


Halflings and Friends of Halflings

by lucradiss



Series: MCYT Medieval AU [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dadza, Mentioned Eret - Freeform, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Phil Watson-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade-centric (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade are Siblings, Wilbur Soot-centric, mentioned Skeppy, no beta we die like men, puffy is a minor character, this is basically a medieval au, yk like game of thrones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28569915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucradiss/pseuds/lucradiss
Summary: A pink-haired child has been killing knights and stealing food from his holds. It was just another thing to add to the long, long list of Phil's kingly duties, he supposed.---Or; Phil leaves home to kill a child and returns with three.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Darryl Noveschosch & Phil Watson, Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Series: MCYT Medieval AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2143413
Comments: 42
Kudos: 883





	Halflings and Friends of Halflings

"You're telling me you allowed an eight-year-old child to kill your commander and three others a fortnight ago? Am I reading this correspondence right, _ser_?" 

The young man in front of him, most likely very newly knighted and probably having never held a sword until one was shoved in his hand, paled at the venom Phil put in his tone. He almost felt bad for injecting it into the word, but he knew it wouldn't be received the same way with kindness. The man would be punished for his incompetance, not by Phil, and honeyed words would not help him when he came face to face with possible execution.

"Y-Yes, your grace. Wrote it m'self. Saw it with m' own two eyes, I did. Like nothin' you've ever seen. A feral beast, the little thing, prob'ly near eight or nine, as you said. Pink hair 'n bloodied eyes, tusks growin' from his lips as a boar's would 'n ears no shorter." He shifted in his used, dented armor. "Took food from our kitchens b'fore scurryin' off. Like nothin' you've ever seen." 

Phil searched the boy's eyes for any semblance of fantasy. He'd met this boy before, seen him speak- he didn't seem one for fanatics or hysterical whimsy. This was the truth, from the mouth of a man probably more frightened of a child than of the executioner he would meet for his desertion. Phil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Go, then. Get a meal and some beer and rest. You'll be tried at dawn- don't get your hopes up. You committed treason, running back there, even if you were coming to alert me. You should have sent a raven once the child fleed. I pray for your head's security on your shoulders."

The man swallowed hard, then bowed slightly and rushed from the room, probably hoping to get a good last meal in just in case he were to die the next day. Phil sighed once more and leaned back in his chair.  
This was the second time this nameless boy had attacked his encampments, and with the same description Phil could only assume it was the same child. Pale skin, pointed ears, red eyes, tusks, and long, pink hair. He didn't know what to do- the little bastard was absolutely lethal. He'd killed five men in his last assault and four in his most recent one, injuring countless. He had to wonder how a boy who was eight or nine had fighting prowess that surpassed that of trained, weathered knights, but that wasn't his concern. His concern was catching this child and doing unto him what he'd done to his knights. Phil had a war to win, in any case, and this... child wasn't helping.

He stood, leaning on his desk for a moment and looking out of his window. For a moment, he could almost imagine a world without all of this petty conflict. Without Schlatt breathing down his neck for payment and without Dream at his throat, countering every war strategy as if he knew their plans by heart. 

One of his cupbearers, a young girl probably around the age of fifteen or sixteen, walked in on him then, as he moved to take his sword from the wall and strap it to his waist, pulling on a cloak to keep himself warm.

"Are ya plannin' on travelin', your grace?" She asked, placing the pitcher of wine down on the counter and pulling his hat from the wall, handing it to him. He thanked her with a nod of the head and placed it over his golden hair, down to his shoulders.

"Yes," He said. "I plan to visit my emcampment in L'Manburg. See what the fuss is about this little monster ruining our camps."

"But, your grace, if I may show insolence," she doubled back, but continued when he raised his hand for her to speak. "That encampment is the closest to Lord Dream's main citadel. Are ya sure it's safe for ya to travel there, especially with everythin' goin' on?"

He gave her a smile, walking past her. "Please, dear, inform Grand-Maester Bad that he is the Lord of my castle until my return. You are all to listen to him, follow his command, and do as he says. Am I clear?"

She nodded quickly, squeezing past Phil and running down the hall. He turned to his left, away from her, catching the eye of another servant. "You. Bring my horse and provisions for a week's ride to the front of the castle. I'm leaving at dusk."

"Are you riding alone, your grace?" 

"Yes."

The servant nodded and went to get Phil's horse and supplies, and Phil walked down the hall to speak with Eret, to inform him of what was going to be happening and what to do if Phil didn't return.

Phil was the rightful king of Esempee. And if it took killing a feral child and winning a war to defend that title, so be it.

\---

Phil arrived at L'Manburg in three days' time, just breaking half of what it usually would take for a rider. Maybe it was urgency that sped his travels; maybe morbid curiosity. In any case, he gave a small smile as he looked up and saw the new Lord Commander of Hypixel's encampment approaching his horse, a strong woman who called herself Puffy. It was maybe a good thing, Phil thought, the last commander was killed- he'd always liked Puffy, but couldn't instate her, a woman, as commander himself. He put her as second in line, and she'd thanked him profusely, but he never thought the late lord commander would perish. Rotten doors give way to good wood, he supposed, and he'd heard she fell into her role as leader naturally. For that, he was grateful.

"My lord!" She greeted, giving him a weary grin. He returned it and hopped off his horse. She'd never gotten the hang of the transition between 'my lord' and 'your grace', but Phil didn't mind. 

"Commander Puffy," He greeted. "You seem well."

"Never better, Lord Minecraft. Things are good around here, they are." She turned to gesture to the men working behind her, growing farms as best they could in this harsh climate or sharpening swords on whetstones or by hand. Her hair, unnaturally white and curled thick from her skull, fell over her toned shoulder beautifully. He huffed internally- under different circumstances, he might have taken her for a wife. "Aye; we're doing just fine."

"I'm glad to hear it," He responded.

"Well!" She turned to him with another smile. "We've been expecting you, my lord. Your bedchambers are readied and you shall want for nothing. Is there anything I can do for you right now?"

"Yes, actually," He said, nodding in thanks to a servant as he came to guide Phil's horse to a stable. "I have a thirst, for one, so maybe we can get a drink together and discuss this... problem child, so to speak."

Her grin dropped as quickly as it had arrived, and she nodded solemnly. "Yes, of course. Come with me, Lord."

She guided him to her own chambers and gestured for him to sit anywhere. He obliged, sitting at a table, where she poured him and herself a goblet of red wine. He took a sip as she sat down and took one for herself.

"We have reason to believe he'll attack this encampment tonight, my lord."

Phil blanched, putting his goblet down. "What?"

She sighed, looking out the window at the sun, which steadily fell to alert them all of the impending nighttime. "He attacks an encampment seemin'ly for food. Every couple weeks or so. The only reason men die is because they try to stop the child- tonight, I'm lookin' to capture 'im."

He looked at her incredulously. " _Capture_ him? The child who killed nine of our men and injured countless others? You believe you're equipt to catch him, and contain him?"

"Yes, my lord. I have a plan, too. Y'see, I've got men actin' as normal, doin' their tasks as if it were a normal day, but I'm goin' to have one of the kitchen serfs leave some food out" She raised her fingers to quotation it, " _for the homeless_ in the encampment. When the boy comes scurryin' in to nab it, _BLAM!_ " She clapped her hands together to punctuate her sentence, "Knights'll surround him, more than he can manage, and tackle 'im to the ground! Then, we can put 'im in cuffs and throw 'im in the prisons for questionin'."

Phil blinked. "You want to catch this lethal, tried and true killer... like a rat?"

"Aye. Simplicity itself, my lord."

Phil cracked a grin. "Okay," He said slowly. "I'll allow it. But on one condition."

"Yes?"

"I want to be there to see the child."

Her eyes widened. "My lord, with all due respect, I can't let you do that. You're too important! The rightful king of Esempee, riskin' his life? I won't have it. You may see him when he is in jail after the plan has gone through."

He frowned. "You underestimate my skill, Lord Commander Puffy?" 

She gasped. "No, no! O'course not, my lord! I've heard of your prowess in battle, and I have no doubts that you could prevail against this child less your right arm and eyes plucked out like grapes, but..."

"No buts," he insisted, finishing off his wine and standing, giving her another grin. "Night is falling- we must all get in position for this plan you have. I pray to the Aether it works."

She sighed grimly and returned his smile with a defeated one of her own, standing along with him. "Aye."

\---

The night was cold. Colder than it had been before. Techno huffed as he weaved through trees, his steel sword chill against his palm. He couldn't keep doing this- he was sure the high lords would catch wind of his endeavors sooner or later, and when they did he'd be caught and he'd be lucky if they sliced his head clean off. If he was unlucky...

He saw firelight in the distance, probably patrols doing nightly rounds. He jogged up behind a tree and crouched to see closer. Surprisingly, the amount of guards the hold was protected by didn't change from his last... _visit_ to this encampment. That was good for Techno- less casualties. Hopefully, if all went well, nobody would die tonight. Nothing ever went well, though.  
He sighed and put his sword down with shivering hands, tying up his hair with a vine he had found in the woods the day before. It always got in his face while fighting and if he were being honest it hindered his already which was already pretty hogshit to begin with. Not that he could do anything about it- lowborn thieves and killers didn't have the luxury of bifocals, and when they did they were most likely stolen. 

A strand fell into his face. He blew it away and picked up his sword from the soft dirt he'd placed it in, not relishing the grime he felt beneath his fingernails. Whatever- it wasn't like he could just wash them when he liked. Soap was expensive.  
He huffed commitally and stood, running as fast as he could past the guards. They, surprisingly, didn't seem to notice him as he pressed himself behind the wall, away from their line of sight. This was going well. For once. He sighed, sheathing his sword and getting low, making himself small. Well; small _er_.   
He'd overheard from some townspeople that, after his last visit to this hold where he'd killed the Lord Commander, a new one had taken his spot- a woman. He wondered if that was why the knights weren't paying attention: she wasn't doing a good job, and the new guards weren't trained to notice stuff like small kids running through the side gates at night. Perhaps she wasn't fit for this job, or something.

He knew the way to the kitchens- these encampments were all the same. Forward and to the right, just as it always was. Just as he was about to press onward, he smelled something- something hot and freshly cooked. He turned to see a plate of food in front of one of the peasants, who looked to be asleep, leaning up against the tree behind him. Techno got closer, and realized that the man wasn't asleep, but rather dead. He... wouldn't be needing that food, would he? And Techno hadn't eaten in days...

He reached a hand out for the plate, slowly, fearfully, and just as he was about to take it, the supposedly dead man whipped his head up.

"Now!" He barked, and suddenly, from every angle, knights appeared in full armor, running at him at high speed. Caught off-guard, Techno yelped and fumbled grabbing his sword. He still, though, managed to take out three of the first guards that came at him. When a fat one tackled him, though, he knew he was done for. He kicked and screamed and wailed for the fatass to _get off of him_ , but he didn't listen, only chuckling when Techno's chipped iron sword came in contact with the man's gleaming armor. 

He heard footsteps coming closer and punched the knight again, feeling the skin on his knuckles tear with the force of it, and he whined pitifully. He was going to be killed, his head would be chopped off, and he would be dead. He didn't want to be dead! He wanted to be living! The footsteps stopped in front of him and he looked up at the beholder with a snarl that died on his tongue the minute he saw the purple gleam of the dragonglass sword being pointed delicately at his face. His iron sword was gently plucked from his grip and given to another knight, who strapped it to his own waist.

"So you're the one who's been killing all my men, hm?"

Techno swallowed hard, not responding. The man was wearing Lord's clothing, an odd striped hat atop straw-colored hair. He had eyes that were bright blue, though dulled by age and weather. They looked... kind. That couldn't be said about most lords. 

"Nothing to say for yourself? You don't look very dangerous, even for a halfling... Then again, you did injure three men just now, even taken by surprise and pulling your sword too late."

The man cocked his head and crouched to meet his gaze.

"What's your name, boy?"

Techno grunted. "Get this fatass of a knight off of me and I just might tell you."

Phil laughed, a jingling musical sound, and stood, sheathing his sword and putting his hands on his hips. "Alright, then. You heard the child- get off, ser."

"But, your grace-"

The lord's gaze darkened and, though it wasn't directed at Techno, his blood ran cold all the same. "Are you disobeying me, ser?"

"N-No, your grace! My apologies."

"Just get off."

Techno took a deep breath as the knight got off of him, and immediately scrambled to his feet. He felt naked, defenseless without his sword, and he knew that was the truth. He wasn't dangerous without it- that's probably why he let him free.

"Would you like to eat with me, child?"

Techno blinked and looked up. The lord smiled down at him kindly. 

"...What?"

The lord laughed again. "Come with me, boy. I'll have the servants bring something up for the both of us." He turned around with a swish of his robes, and Techno was left in the dust. He didn't want to be left in the dust! He jogged up to the lord, doing his best not to meet the contemptious eyes of the knights around him, whose friends he probably killed- in self defense, of course! "Do you like pheasant?"

"Never had it," He admitted as he got to the lord's side. The straw-haired man looked down at him with that same smile from before. Filled with more kindness than Techno had ever been allowed in his life.

"Well, let's change that, shall we?"

\---

The child's fork scraped across the plate as he haphazardly cut into his bird. He stared at it, not wanting to meet the eyes of Phil, who watched him intently, slowly cutting into his own meal and taking small, polite bites, as he'd been taught his entire life. And, despite his attempt to conceal it, the child acted the same- a highborn child; no, a _halfling_ hightborn child killing for food... how peculiar.  
He'd sat still and polite as the hold's maester tended to his wounds, and now his busted knuckles were covered in a thick, salve-soaked bandage and a cut on his cheek was covered in a patch. He looked no cleaner, but hopefully the wounds wouldn't hurt him much in the future.

"You never did tell me your name, child," He said suddenly, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over the room. He saw the boy stiffen. He raised his gaze, meeting the lord's, and swallowed a bite of his pheasant.

"You first."

Phil barked a laugh. "A fiery one- You need to have a little fire to kill a man, I suppose. But you win. I am Lord Philza Minecraft of House Slumberlad, first of my name."

The boy's eyes widened. "You... You're the king!"

Phil shrugged. "Soon-to-be, hopefully."

"Oh gods," the boy swore, moving back in his chair, sitting straight, putting a small, dirty hand through his hair in an attempt to straighten it. Phil huffed in amusement. "I apologize, my lord- your grace! Your grace, I'm so sorry-"

"You're not lowborn, are you?" 

The child blanched, and looked at Phil painfully. "How'd you know?"

Phil smiled. "If you want to seem lowborn, use 'm'lord' or 'milord'. You don't eat like a commoner, either, and your accent is from Hypixel and your hair is tell-tale as well. Now," He put down his fork and knife and leaned on the table, narrowing his eyes at the child. "Just who are you, little lord?"

The child looked askance, playing with one of the bones he'd left behind of his pheasant. "My name is Technoblade, of the house of the Blood God."

He was surprised- that was the royal house in Hypixel. He'd learned about them growing up- infamous for their strength and lethality, sigil of a crowned, bloody-tusked boar. What was a little prince doing down in the seventh hell of Esempee? He decided to ask. "Well, Technoblade of the house of the blood god, what are you doing in Esempee?"

The boy ducked his head. "My father didn't want a bastard, let alone a halflin' bastard. Dropped me here when I was four- I've been beggin' ever since, but it's hard to beg when you look like me."

"That is very true. So you kill for food?"

"Yes," Technoblade admitted. "But not just for me! I have two brothers- not blood, of course, but they ran from the orphanage when they were younger. Wilbur's eight, like me, and Tommy's five."

Phil frowned. "Where are they?"

The boy frowned with an intensity that matched Phil's. "I can't tell you, Your Grace. I'm sorry. Behead me if you want, but I can't, They'll be sent back to the orphanage if they're found. I'm sorry."

Phil smiled. "Suit yourself. Are they without food?"

Technoblade shifted in his chair. "No. They have enough to last three more days, if they're good about it. I'd just come to get more."

"You don't eat as much as the others, do you?"

"No, Your Grace. They're more important."

Phil hummed, picking back up his fork and knife, cutting once again into the pheasant. "You sound like a good brother, Technoblade."

"Techno."

Phil looked up, cocking his head. "What?"

"Call me Techno. Not Technoblade."

Phil smiled again. "Well, Techno, how would you like a bath and a warm place to sleep tonight? We can talk in the morning about how to move forward."

Techno furrowed his brows. "What do you mean, 'how to move forward'?"

"Well, I can't exactly let you go. You've killed nine of my men, injured many more- I doubt I'd be favored if I were to let you go, and if I did who's to say you won't attack another one of my encampments?"

The boy looked at him with fear. "No, please don't keep me here- my brothers, I can't leave them alone! They'll be killed by the monsters that live in those woods, and they have enough food for now but later they'll starve! Please, Wilbur won't survive longer than a couple days and Tommy can't survive without Wilbur or me! I can't leave them!"

Phil hummed. "Hm. How about you bring them here on the morrow? For now, while I'm staying in L'Manburg, you boys can be in my custody- nobody will kill you, nobody will hurt you- new clothing, hot food, beds and baths. Just as I offered you."

Techno's eyes widened. "You mean it? You won't hurt us?"

Phil's smile widened. Despite the child's lethality and past of killing, he felt a certain affection for him, not unlike a father had for a son. It had stirred in his chest the first time he saw him, crushed by that burly knight and squirming for freedom. Something in Phil wanted to hold the boy, Techno, until the fear in those bloodied eyes melted away- he seemed to have been afraid his entire life, unwanted his entire life, thrown aside his entire life. No child should have to be subjected to that treatment. "No, child. Of course not. I don't hurt babes."

Techno hesitated, then nodded. "Thank you."

"Of course, Techno. I mean," He stood and undid his robes, shrugging them off. He heard a gasp behind him as his great dragon-esque wings shifted and spread from where they'd been pinned safely to his back. "It's the least I can do for a fellow halfling."

\---

"When's Techno coming home? I need him to teach me to swordfight!"

Wilbur sighed, flipping a page in a book they'd stolen from the bookstore in town. Techno had taught him to read, both Hypixel's odd charactered language and the common tongue so commonly spoken in Esempee.   
"He should be home soon, Toms. He always is." Yeah, home being their little cave in the middle of the woods where nobody would ever find them except for themselves. It was safe- not luxurious and not comfortable in the slightest, but it was home to them, at the very least. 

"But _how_ soon, though? He said he'd teach me when he got back." 

He huffed. His little brother was always so impatient- he wondered how Techno was so indifferent to it. Even so, the other boy always insisted that Wilbur was the one better with kids. Perhaps he was- he was much better at calming Tommy down during his tantrums when they were all younger, better at getting Tommy to eat when he refused to do so if the food wasn't good enough or unspoiled. Then again, though, Techno was always better at keeping them healthy, and Wilbur didn't miss how the halfling would always take less food for himself than the others. He sighed again and closed his book, standing up and giving Tommy a smile.

" _Soon_ , Tommy. Don't worry about him. He'll be back. And he'll teach you to fight with that wooden sword of yours, be sure of that," Wilbur assured, walking over to ruffle the younger boy's head. They'd all had to grow quickly- too quickly. "Remember what he always says-"

"Technoblade never dies, right, right. I know that."

Wilbur's smile widened. "Good. Now, come here. When you become a lord someday, you'll need to know how to read the letters sent to you by other lords and ladies who wish to speak with you." He sat back down and picked up his book, flipping to the beginning and waving for Tommy to follow.

Tommy gave a toothy grin and dropped his sword, running over. "I want to be a knight, and a lord, so they'll have to call me 'Ser Lord Big Man Tommy'!"

Wilbur giggled as Tommy crawled into his lap. "Where did the 'Big Man' come from?"

"I'm gonna be a big man, so they'll have to call me one!"

"Ah, that's right. Of course."

"Now, that's not even close to being possible."

They both looked up to see their pink-haired brother coming into the cave, a soft smile on his face.

"Techno!" Tommy scrambled from Wilbur's lap and bound over to Techno, giving him a great hug. Wilbur stood and walked over, putting a hand on his shoulder the way he saw the older people do it and giving him a smile. He frowned, though, noticing changes.

"Your hair... it's lighter than I remember it. And your clothes aren't ripped or dirty- you weren't wearing that when you left." Tommy broke the hug to look, and Techno shrugged. "And where's the food? You said you were bringing back food; we don't have enough to last much longer, Techno."

"We won't need to last," He said. "I met a lord while huntin'. A really important one, at that. With a great dragonglass sword." He looked at Tommy when he said that, whose mouth went in the shape of an 'O' in awe.

"Obsidian."

"Whatever, dragonglass, obsidian, who cares! He said he'd take us in as his wards!"

Wilbur's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure he can be trusted, Techno?"

Techno went quiet. "I think so," He responded. "I've... done some stuff while hunting for food and... if he wanted to kill me, he would have done it. He gave me food and a bath and he clothed me and let me sleep in his chambers. He can be trusted."

Wilbur took a deep breath, then smiled. "Okay, then. Let's go meet this lord. What's his name?"

Techno suddenly looked sheepish. He looked askance, as he always did when he was nervous. "Techno," Wilbur prodded. "Who is this lord?"

"Well... see, here..."

\---

Phil looked up from his book as he heard the gasp of a child, and smiled when he saw a golden-haired little boy running through L'Manburg's hold. He closed it and stood, seeing Techno walking behind the boy with a brown-haired child only slightly taller next to him, looking about apprehensively. He closed his book and stood, putting it down on the stone on which he'd sat previously waiting the boys' arrival.  
The brown-haired one finally met his gaze and his eyes became saucers. He stopped, and Techno turned back to give him a look. He saw him say something to his brother frantically, fear in the way he moved his lips, and Techno gave a smile, responding accordingly.   
They both were wearing backpacks, probably carrying all of their worldly possessions. The tallest of the boys, the brown-haired one speaking with Techno, seemed to carry the most, his backpack boxy with objects Phil could only assume were books. 

He felt a tug on his robes and looked down, meeting the eyes of a child who didn't look unlike himself. He was sure that, given a year or so, people would begin to confuse him for Phil's biological son. He smiled- he wouldn't put it past them. "'scuse me, m'lord," The boy said, his accent thick and very similar to Phil's own. "Are you my new father?"

Phil chuckled and crouched to get level with the boy. "Only if you want. And you don't have to call me 'my lord', you can call me-"

"Lord Philza Minecraft, House of Slumberlad, first of his name, Cheater of Death, King of Esempee. Your Grace," He heard another voice, accented similarly to his brother but from a different region it seemed, and looked up to see the brown-haired boy in front of him practically shaking in his boots. "I apologize for my brother, he can be a bit... bold." 

Phil barked a laugh. "That's one way to put it," He said, but there was no malice in his tone. He smiled at the boy. "But please, boys, no more of this 'my lord' or 'your grace' bullshit. Call me Phil."

"Yes, Your Gra- My lor- Phil-" The brown-haired one, who Phil could only assume to be Wilbur by Techno's description the night before, struggled, and Phil could only stifle a laugh. The other boy, Tommy, only nodded and continued exploring. It was cut short, though, when he got too close to the extra swords and Techno pulled him away.

"You seem very well spoken," Phil said to Wilbur softly as his brothers bickered in the background. "Where'd you learn to speak so properly?"

"Oh! I-I, uh, taught myself to read when I was younger to pass the time, and the words in the books never use the commoner's slang, so I never picked it up, not truly. Unfortunately, Tommy did, though. I've been trying to kick it out of him, but it's not working so well."

"Well, we have a lifetime to fix that, don't we?" He put a hand on Wilbur's shoulder. "You don't have to be so nervous, child. I'm not going to hurt you."

Wilbur sighed, trying to ease his apprehension. "I'm sorry, I know, it's just hard to believe the King of Esempee wants my brothers and I to be his wards. _Especially_ for nothing in return."

Phil chuckled. "Well," He said, looking at the others, who had begun roughhousing in the cold, damp dirt, with a gentle gaze. "I've always wanted sons. And I may have a soft spot in my heart for halflings and friends of halflings."

"I'm very glad to hear it, then."

He looked back at Wilbur. "Now, then- you lot must be starving. And so cold- look at what you're wearing! I'll have the kitchen start supper, and have the servants draw you baths and find you new clothes." He stood, reaching out his hand for Wilbur to take and gesturing for the other boys to follow. "They might not fit, but that's only temporary. When we return to the castle, I'll have the tailors make you clothing special for each of you."

Wilbur looked at him in awe. "... _Just_ for me?"

Phil laughed. "Yes, Wilbur. Just for you."

\----

The last thing the Grand Maester Badboyhalo expected to hear that morning when sweeping the great hall was the jingling laugh of a child. He looked up only to see a small boy of five or six pushing through the vast gold-plated doors of the throne room, golden hair atop his head and eyes as strikingly blue as the king's. It couldn't be...!  
He gasped, his tail flicking behind him, and ran over to the child crouching in front of him. The boy turned to him and gawked at his appearance, eyes wide. It had to be the king, there was no mistaking those eyes!   
"Your Grace, what dark magic has turned you so small?! How can I help to reverse it- oh, gods, you've always been better at magic than me- do you even remember me? Do you remember your magic? Oh, Aether, help me-"

"Bad, calm down," He heard the much more familiar laugh of his king and looked up as Phil walked through the already opened doors of the great hall, carrying a brunet boy with a pink-haired one at his side, holding his hand. He put down the brown-haired one, who Bad now realized was taller than the others, and the two other boys began to explore the throne room. "That's Tommy, one of my new wards."

Bad sighed in relief and stood. "Oh, thank the gods. He just looks so much like you did at that age, I assumed there was some dark magic involved!"

Phil laughed again. "No, no magic. Just a child who ran too far ahead of the group and scared the servants on his way. By the way, there, with the brown hair" he pointed to one of the boys, "is Wilbur, and the halfling is Techno."

"Hypixelian?" Phil nodded. Pink hair was only found in Hypixel, if at all, and the name had a certain ring to it that Bad had come to know as Hypixelian.

"Are you a demon?" The boy, Tommy, suddenly blurted. The brunet, Wilbur, whipped his head around.

"Tommy, that's rude!"

Bad giggled. "No, no, it's okay! I get it a lot, don't worry." He crouched to meet Tommy's eyes once more. "I'm not a demon- I'm a halfling, from the Badlands. I've served the palace as the Grand Maester for, I don't know, eighty years, now?" 

Tommy's eyes grew wide. "Woah," he exclaimed. "You're really old."

Another giggle erupted from Bad's mouth, and Phil had to stifle one of his own. "Yes, child. I'm very old."

"Alright, Tommy. Go explore with your brothers. I have business to discuss with Grand Maester Badboyhalo."

Tommy groaned but nodded all the same, bounding over to inevitably annoy the other two brothers, who were looking in awe at Phil's throne.  
Bad moved in front of Phil, his smile dropping into an expression of amusement.

Phil gave him a grin. "What?"

"You leave the castle to kill a child and you return with three?"

His king shrugged. "What can I say? I have a soft spot-"

"For halflings and friends of halflings, I know, I've heard it a thousand thousand times, Your Grace. But... is that halfling boy safe?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well, he did kill nine knights and a Lord Commander of one of your holds."

"Techno killed for food. And self defense. And, he's _eight_. Think of what he could do given proper training, Bad! The boy is incredible with a sword, and his brother is brilliant, probably a genius- taught _himself_ to read just to pass the time. On our way back he identified different medicinal and edible herbs; he's a maester in the making! And the youngest is rambunctious and spirited- I have no doubt he'll be fit for leadership when he comes of age. These boys are _special_ , Bad. You just have to trust me. Have faith."

Bad sighed, smiling. "I've never lost it, Your Grace. If you trust these boys so, I won't say anything of it. You may want to ease Ser Skeppy into it, though- he's... not the best with children."

Phil laughed heartily. "I'll see to it that he's properly notified. But can you notify the royal tailor that I'll be in later? I want to get the boys settled in their chambers and bathed before dinner, and I think the servants would be upset with me if I didn't introduce them before ordering them to bathe three random children."

Bad smiled. "Of course, Your Grace. I'll get on that right away." He looked over at the boys, who were taking turns sitting on the throne and pretending to order imaginary people around. It would no doubt be considered treason had it been anyone else; Tommy was sat on Techno's lap at that point, shouting something about being a Big Man with Wilbur giggling beside them. "The little princes of Esempee. However will the public react?"

Phil shook his head, a smile on his face. "Hopefully well, but knowing my subjects, probably terribly. The horror, having a halfling prince in the royal family."

Bad cocked his head understandingly. "Such is the way of politics, Your Grace."

"Aye," Phil responded. "Such is the way."

\----

"Dream, a raven's come for you, from North Esempee."

Dream looked up from the table on which his battle plans were. There was a lull in the war, and he had no intention of keeping it that way- he was going to be king whether Philza fucking Minecraft liked it or not. 

"From the castle? Which one of my connects is it from?" He took it from the his Maester, George Notfound's, hand and opened it as the man, as monotone and dry as he always was, opened his mouth once again to speak.

"It didn't say. Only that it was from a trusted friend."

Dream hummed as he read it, then scoffed. "Sapnap, burn this piece of shit for me, please."

His Lord Commander, the pyromancer Sapnap, grinned as he walked over and took the parchment, reading it before lighting it on fire and throwing it to the ground, where it crisped to ash. 

"You really need to stop burning things like that, Dream. You could burn down your tent, and then where would you drink and whore yourself to an early grave?"

Dream rolled his eyes from behind the white dragonglass mask that covered his face. "Oh, shut up, will you? The correspondence was too sensitive to be kept around."

George narrowed his eyes. "Oh? Please, enlighten me."

Dream grinned and turned to his battle strategy, taking the smile piece and moving it to the North, setting it down before the Slumberlad angered heart sigil. 

"It seems that our usurper has three new weaknesses."


End file.
